Load to (Last) Save
by Pygolampida Ankathi Alepou Dai
Summary: In every game, you load to the last save when everyone in your party dies. It always appears that the characters never remember themselves dying. But now, there is only one checkpoint: The Beginning. And Hawke definitely remembers.
1. Prologue

Lyla Hawke thought she had lived an interesting, if short, life. After fleeing the blight, she had lost her sister to an ogre, only to fall the aforementioned ogre with the largest fireball the had ever done. She bargained with the Witch of the Wilds, talked-and fought- her way into Kirkwall. She made her name as a mercenary, along-side her brother and her new friend Aveline. She had met Varric who, in turn, led her to meet Anders. She managed to make her way to the top of Mount Sundermount, and befriend the elf-mage named Merrill. She unsuspectedly helped Fenris, and gained him as yet another friend; ran into Isabella, and dragged Sebastian from his life in the Chantry.

Together, her band of misfits survived the deep roads, rid the city of invading qunari, and secretly (and not-so-secretly) tried to help out the mages. She lost her mother, watched her brother walk away, and invaded an impregnable vault. Lyla became the champion of Kirkwall, and her companions became her family. But all good things end, and everything went sour.

Anders tricked her into blowing up the Chantry. Sebastian stomped away, his arrow in the healer's throat. Fenris joined Meredith. Aveline was killed by a Templar, Merrill was torn to pieces by a Harvester. Those who were left had to face a crazed, lyrium-powered Knight-Commander Meredith.

Hawke watched her friends fall. She threw as many spells as she could, until she found herself laying on the ground with a hole through her stomach; watching as statues came alive and everyone was slain.

And as the world stood still, Meredith was left standing alone in a pool of blood. Hawke could hear someone whimpering nearby, but she could not place who it was. Just inside her vision, she could see the battered form of what once was her brother, his Templar armour caved in at the chest.

Tears gathered in her eyes as her lids slid shut. 'I'm sorry.' She thought; but she wasn't sure why she was apologizing. 'I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.'

Perhaps she was silently apologizing to Meredith in hopes to be spared, or maybe to her kith and kin for leading them to death; or even of the people of Kirkwall she had failed. Hawke couldn't decide before her whole world went dark and she heard the much-missed voice of her mother, calling out to her to wake up.


	2. Load 1

"Lyla, love! Wake up- you have to wake up. Sweetheart, your brother has come home and we have to leave."

Lyla blearily blinked open her eyes, revealing a battered wooden roof. Turning her head slightly, the worn face came into her view, as welcoming and frightening as anything could be in Thedas. Gentle hands clasped around her shoulders, trying to pull her up.

"What…?" Lyla croaked, her fingers coming up and gripping the wrist's of the hands upon her shoulder. "Mother?" Her head spinned, and the surface dipped underneath her. Slowly, she sat up, wary of an ache that should have came to her stomach but never did.

"Sweetheart, hurry, get up. The darkspawn are coming," her mother was saying, smoothing down Lyla's hair and tugging on her sleeve.

"Darkspawn. Yes." Lyla echoed stupidly. Ah, it was this dream again. The flight from Lothering, her first failing. Mechanically, she looked about her. Everything was clear in this dream. Carver stayed Carver, instead of warping between him and Father. He was leaning heavily against the wall, just as she remembered, and that eternal scowl was on his face. The house was just the way it had been. The Fade was being cruel. "Right."

Numbly, she reached for her staff, ever present besides her bed. The familiar memory of welcoming magic echoed around her as she gripped the wood. She used it to stand up, her eyes darting about her and taking in everything. Possible weapons, exits, places to duck for cover, things that she had to take into account when in real battles. Then, her eyes lighted on a quiet presence in a corner, gathering up something that seemed so minor now.

Lyla's mouth went dry, and her hands clenched around her staff. "We… have to get out, right?" She shook her head slightly, and then glanced back at the corner. Bethany was still there, looking whole and alive. Her sister didn't look like a walking corpse, and there was no skeleton wearing her clothes. It was bittersweet, painful and oh so good to see her face again. There was no time to dally over it, not even in dreams.

Mother bustled them out of the house, but that was wrong. Lyla always led, and once they started down the path she did once again. She was in front, setting a hard pace and hearing her family scamper behind her. Her family- wasn't it good to use that word again! Such a beautiful nightmare, for wasn't this the last one? She was bleeding out on the streets of Kirkwall, and dreaming her last dream of Family. Or else, the Maker really was a cruel Bastard and she had been right all along.

Lost in her musings, she almost missed when Mother fell to her knees, and the first group of darkspawn came around the corner. Her eyes came up, her staff sprung to life in her hands, and there was the flood of magic through her staff. The darkspawn fell easily- too easily. It made her a bit paranoid, standing protectively in front of Mother, her eyes darting again. There was no ogre, no swarm of darkspawn. All that happened was the fireblast made her feel more drained. The staff felt wrong in her hands, felt like the old staff and not the new one she had gotten by looting. The magic twisted just a bit different, just like in real life, and it made everything horribly realistic. Things stretched like in real-life, with normal lengths of time that was agonizing.

Carver let out a war-cry, startling her. His sword came down, cleaving some darkspawn in two. With that done, Bethany came up to Mother to fuss. Lyla stood off to one side, wary.

"I think that's all of them." Carver said on cue.

"For the moment." Bethany said despairingly. Right as if she was nothing but a perfectly preserved memory.

"Maker save us, we've lost it all. Everything your father and I built…" Mother lamented, and seemed to deflate.

Lyla hid a grimace, and stepped forwards. "At least we're alive." She said, trying to sound jovial for old times sake. "That's no small feat."

"Yes." Mother said, seeming to shake herself. "You're right."

"We should have run sooner. Why did we wait so long?" Bethany snapped, turning to Carver.

"Bethany, don't blame Carver for this," Lyla said immediately, before her brother had uttered a word. Carver closed his mouth with a 'click,' looking surprised. "He's probably been running since Ostagar. You should be glad he's alive." There was an awkward moment, in which Lyla glanced back. "Listen you two. The darkspawn could be on us in any minute. Let's get moving." Lyla took mother by the shoulder and steered her family on wards, still reveling in the novelty.

What followed was running and fighting, pushing Mother along and trying to get on as fast as they could. Everything was going well until Bethany stopped. Lyla almost panicked and shoved her forwards, but paused once she remembered that this was where they decided to go. The twins pulled up against each other, and Lyla played her part.

"As long as we wander aimlessly AWAY from the darkspawn, I'm happy." She said, with extra emphasis in a futile attempt to hurry them up.

"We can go to Kirkwall." Mother piped up from next to Lyla.

"There, see? Mother's got it all figured out. We even have family there. Now, let's just- go?" Lyla watched as Bethany's face became guarded.

"There's a lot of Templars in Kirkwall, sister," Bethany said, crossing her arms. Besides her, Carver gritted his teeth and looked away at the mention of anything to do with magic.

"We can worry about that when we get there. Right now, let's make our way to Gwaren and take ship." Lyla said, even as her head pounded. This was wrong. This- this was different. She made it different. "Let's get away from the fight, and- and once everyone is safe we can figure things out, alright?" Bethany opened her mouth, as if to say something. By now, however, Lyla had enough of that. "Bethany, move!" She shoved her sister forcefully, making her stumble. Internally she felt guilty, but she could apologize later.

Except there was no later, a nasty little voice reminded her. She dies, everyone dies and you let them die.

Lyla dutifully ignored this voice, but did give Bethany a wince and an apologetic look. Everyone looked shocked into obedience at her outburst, following after her like little Mabari pups. Speaking of a Mabari-

She looked down, and sure enough there was Chomp. She didn't notice him earlier, having become so used to him being there he faded into the background. No- not even that, for she took notice of the background. She only noticed him when he wasn't there. He was there, however, snuffling at her feet. Satisfied, she set off again, cresting over a rise- and stopping.

Blood thrummed in her ears again, pounding a rhythm. Carver came up behind her and stopped at her side and Lyla struggled to keep her face impassive. He squinted down at the swarm of darkspawn surrounding a red-haired woman and the templar. They hesitated at the top, for different reasons, as the darkspawn took him by surprise and crippled his arm. And then Aveline- for it was she - punched the darkspawn in the face, dragged the templar away, brandishing the sword and shield. Lyla snapped out of her daze then, and lurched forwards suddenly, brandishing the staff. Carver startled, but rushed after her.

"And here we go again!" Lyla cried as she threw a fireball at the nearest darkspawn, the words truer than anyone around her could know. The story repeated around her, and she was struggling with saying the right lines. Nothing seemed to come easily in this dream. Attack, defend, attack, darkspawn, darkspawn, ogre, dar- Ogre! There it was, the Fade had finally tormented her enough and gotten to this part.

It was just as ugly as she remembered, charging the group and everyone scattering. Bethany still ended up next to Mother, and then the Ogre reached down- Lyla couldn't look away. She relived it all, as Beth was lifted up and brought down, her body smashed into the ground. The hollow thing that used to be her was flung to the side.

Letting out a cry of anger, she threw a fire-ball at the behemoth's face. The ogre let out a roar of pain, and lashed out with it's horns. She had been standing too close- one of the spikes caught her, and sent her tumbling to the ground. Lyla gasped, striking the floor, and the staff skittered away. Vaguely, one could hear Carver let out a fearful cry as the Ogre brought it's foot down. What followed was her Mother's voice, asking her to wake up. Except, that couldn't be right.


	3. Load 2

"Lyla, love! Wake up- you have to wake up. Sweetheart, your brother has come home and we have to leave."

Lyla sat upright suddenly, startling her mother. "Oh! Love, you scared me." Leandra said, placing a hand over her heart.

"Mother?" Lyla mumbled in confusion, bringing her hands up to rub at her eyes and clear the grit from her lids. "Didn't you just- w-what's going on?" She looked around her, taking in Carver standing a few paces away and scowling at her. Bethany was in a corner, shoving something into a bag.

"Love, we have to leave before the darkspawn comes. Get up!" Mother wrapped her arms around Lyla's shoulder and forced her to stand. Lyla, still confused, bumbled about, fingers searching for her staff. Once it was in her hands, she allowed herself to be forcefully evicted from the house. Carver was the one to do it this time, pushing her in front of him.

"What's wrong with you?" He sneered, dancing nervously behind her. "You're acting weird. We need to move."

"Right," Lyla agreed easily, and moved faster so that she was in front. The rest of her family fell in behind her, moving at a fast pace. The world seemed so clear, not shifting or moving just like before. Why was this happening again? She always woke up before, never restarted the nightmare.

Dream, dream, dream. Lyla chanted in her head. The Fade is cruel. Or was it a Demon, sinking into her mind and battering her will? Or was she in the seat of the Maker, having displeased him enough to suffer through her failings again and again, able to change the course but not the destination? Too many options, and those were only the most possible, most simple ones. She gripped her old staff tighter, feeling something dig into her palm and bringing her back into the moment.

Mother collapsed. Darkspawn swarmed around. Death, death, blight, Carver's war-cry, Bethany's magic, Mother's frightened face. Everything seemed to swirl around her, and she barely kept up with it, saying what she remembered. When she saw the familiar face of Aveline, she shook her head and came-to. Aveline's husband said some Chantry lines, and Lyla slid between him and Bethany to protect her sister.

"The might of the Templars is fearsome indeed," Lyla said in jest, though it sounded strained. She prayed that they would chalk it up as nervousness.

"More so their wives," he said, glancing back fondly at Aveline.

Lyla followed his gaze, and gave the redhead a calculating look. She didn't see anything wrong with the image. It looked just like the guards-captain when they first met. She pressed her lips into a thin line, and nodded at the warrior. Aveline looked surprised, but nodded back.

"Can you keep up?" Lyla asked, turning back and giving Wesley the Look. Uppercase letter, she had practiced this look for several years in Kirkwall. It said 'Stay away from my group or you die.' Varric had said it was very effective, almost as good as Aveline's glare. It must still be, because he flinched slightly.

Or wait- had Varric said that? Maybe Varric wasn't real. Maybe this whole thing was a dream. Perhaps there was no blight, and she had never been to Kirkwall. That was a scary thought. One that she tossed through her head a bit as they moved on and met the Ogre.

She made sure that she ended up next to mother this time. The blighted thing still turned to them, snarling. She tried throwing a lightning-bolt, feeling the magic jump strangely through her staff. The ogre spasmed slightly, and then roared. Meaty hands closed around Lyla's middle as she let out a cry.

Carver screamed something, and Lyla was brought down to the ground hard. More than several bones broke, and the pain was so much that she didn't feel it. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as the ogre lifted her up, and brought her down again. The ground rushed up to meet her eagerly.

"Lyla, love! Wake up- you have to wake up. Sweetheart, your brother has come home and we have to leave."

She sat up, contemplating as her mother fussed a bit over her, urging her to get up. Lyla didn't wait this time, instead just picking up her staff and looking at Bethany and Carver impassively. Her brother was still scowling, Bethany nervously packing. Again.

Lyla felt something akin to dread well up inside her.


	4. Load 4

Lyla smothered a feeling of triumph as she jerked her magic back into place. The lightning-bolt arched beautifully from her staff, slamming into the hurlock. Her staff hummed in her hand, bending to her will even as she changed to match it. Magic flowed unopposed, unaltered. The familiar rush overtook her as she twirled her staff and cracked a skull open with its end. She didn't dare feel proud.

When the magic had faded into silence, she lowered her staff. Sweat dripped into her eyes, bidding her to blink away the droplets. Glancing around her warily, she raised her thumb to her lips and bit on the tip. Her eyes flickered to her mother, and then carefully averted their gaze. She dropped her hand to her side, and turned to something else- namely a chest.

Scowling, Lyla walked up to the chest. Giving it a practice kick, she looked at the thing in disgust. "Carver?" She called to her brother. "Can you smash this open, or something?" Her brother looked up with frowning and came over. He deftly raised his sword over his head, and brought it down on the chest. There was a crack, and the wood splintered open. Both of the siblings flinched back as wood pieces flew through the air.

Lyla looked back at the remains of the chest, tentatively. A pair of battered boots peeked out from between the wood splinters, as well as a bottle filled with the classic red liquid of a health potion. She licked her lips, and closed her eyes in defeat.

She had never opened the chest before. There should be no memories of it holding anything. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and picked up the boots. They were a common enough design, if a bit beat up. She looked at them for a second, before dropping them and picking up the health potion instead.

"Well, lets move on shall we?" She said, trying to sound cheerful. She straightened up, tucking the potion out of sight. Carver gave her an odd look as they started moving again. She could not fault his attitude.

Goose-bumps went across her arms, and she shivered and resisted the urge to hug herself. Everyone was set on edge by the vibes she was sending out with her body language. They were on their toes when Lyla tip-toed across the earth, glancing around nervously and gripping her staff.

The ground vibrated under her feet, making her freeze. It was so obvious once she looked for it, and that made her feel a bit sick. Her companions and family looked around them, thick nervous energy buzzing through the air. Points crested over the next rise.

They scattered as horns slashed through the place they had clustered. The ogre stood up from it's charge, letting out a roar as saliva dripped from its deformed maw. Cold fingers danced up Lyla's spine as the monster swung it's head. Bethany stood in front of mother, looking determined. The younger sister mumbled a prayer, cast a spell-

Lyla's heart was battered at again, watching as her first major mistake replayed. She swallowed the lump in her throat and ignored the way she couldn't feel the ground underneath her. Her mind almost shut down for a half a beat, but some deeper, primal part of her growled out in the back of her mind and kept her aware. Her staff was brought up, and she scrambled to come up with something to help, watching her baby brother let out an angry battle call and charge the ogre. Her lips took up a half-forgotten chant as her brain struggled to pull up what used to be a seemingly unimportant spell.

A green glow appeared underneath the ogre, taking the form of a glyph. The arm of the ogre froze in mid-swing, just barely stopping before it hit Aveline. Lyla stumbled to the still form of her sister, trying valiantly to keep half of her attention on the glyph so that it didn't collapse prematurely. Her knees felt like they wanted to give out when she saw the damaged up-close, but she forced herself to stay up and focus on the fight.

Though she was tossing a few lightning-bolts when she saw the chance, Lyla mostly healed the two warriors intermittently, keeping them in such a state that they could hack away pieces of flesh. Cries of battle and sprays of blood echoed as adrenaline roared in everyone's ears.

Then, all at once, the fight was done.

Standing bewildered, the group looked around at the corpses surrounding them as if they couldn't believe the fight was over. Weapons were dropped, heaving breaths slowed down. Energy still buzzed in their muscles, however it was ready to flee at the first sign of rest.

"Bethany!" Mother wailed, and all attention snapped to her. "Love, the battles over. Everyone's fine. Wake up! Wake up..." Bethany wouldn't wake up.

Later, Lyla found her back pressed against the wooden insides of a ship's hull, her eyes staring blankly at the other refugees around her. Every once in a while she would reach out an arm and rub her mother's back comfortingly, trying to chase away the woman's sobs. Not many words were exchanged between the Amells, and Lyla spent most of the trip quietly talking to Aveline and re-learning about her. It was a painful trip.

Sometime during the trip, the group moved so that they were sitting underneath the grate. Lyla often stared up at the sky, hopeful for the glimpses of the cliffs of Kirkwall. When the metal image of the weeping slaves came into sight, she let out a small sigh and her head dropped back against the mast. The irony was not lost on her. It was a silent affair as the boat skated across the water and into the docks. Ravens screamed as the ship passed them. One could just about hear the ominous background music...

Lyla's group stayed together as they exited the boat. People scrambled about around them, falling into the arms of loved ones, or just trying to get to a spot to puke out whatever food their stomach was blessed with. Aveline looked on as the group made their way to the gates, the warrior's face stern.

"They're not letting anyone into the city." Aveline remarked coldly.

Leandra looked up, her face terrified. "What?" She said shrilly, her hands gripping her dress. "That can't be!"

"It's true." Lyla said, eyes slitting against the sun. "Look at them all..."

Indeed, there was a mass of people in front of the gate, raising their voices in an attempt to be heard over the others. Ruffians crowded around some poor chaps in uniforms, pushing against each other in an attempt to get into the city. Several other people were hovering nearby, trying to decide if it was worth joining the fray.

"Are we really surprised?" Carver said in contempt, pushing his way past Lyla. He turned to look back at Leandra, making a wide gesture at the crowd. "Everyone's fleeing the blight, just as we are."

"And they would throw us all back to the wolves. Unbelievable." Aveline shook her head in disgust as Lyla shuffled forwards to stand between them.

"So long as we're all safe, that's more important," was Lyla's heartfelt declaration. Leandra scoffed slightly, setting a fist against her hips.

"We need to find Gamlen," Leandra insisted. "Our family has always been highly regarded in Kirkwall. He can do something, I'm sure of it!" She nodded to herself forcefully while Lyla and Carver sighed. Aveline gave the two siblings a look, seeming to understand.

"Let us hope he received your letter, then," Carver mumbled, sparing a glance at the crowd.

"The guards are reporting to that man over there." Lyla said, pointing at the unlucky sap who got saddled with the tedious job. "We should go speak to him." She led the way over to the crowd, and the warriors pushed and shouldered people aside until they found themselves in the front, blinking dumbly at the scowling guard. Lyla put the end of her staff against the ground and leaned on it as if it was a walking stick or crutch.

"Get back to the crowd, you lot!" The guardsman snapped bitterly, raising his hands in a 'stop' gesture. "Trying to bully your way through won't get you into Kirkwall any faster!" He sounded irritated and tired. Lyla might've felt bad for him if he wasn't standing in her way.

"But you do intend to let us in?" Aveline pressed, leaning over the guard.

The man sneered at her, crossing his arms and listing to one side arrogantly. "Huh! We have enough poor of our own in the Free Marches. We don't need you refugees piling up here like a m-"

"There must be someone in charge we can speak with!" Lyla cut him off insistently, eyes widening slightly.

The guard sighed, uncrossing his arms. "Yes, yes, always the same story." He shifting to one side slightly and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "You want in, you go talk to Captain Ewald. I'm just here to keep you refuse from climbing the walls."

"And you're doing a fine job of that," Lyla assured him. "But I think I saw some people talking about taking some sort of "Undertown" entrance to get in, over a bit to the west..."

"Maker, really?" The man wrinkled his nose as the group walked past. "Andraste's tits, they're getting desperate. I'll probably have to go send someone to find them, too." He sighed heavily just before Lyla started up the stairs. The mage fought valiantly to keep from grinning. Instead, she took in the lovely decorations of slaves on the walls. That really helped dim her mood.

"Tell me," Aveline piped up suddenly as they were walking though the passage, "how did you escape Lothering? Almost everyone else had fled."

"My sister." Carver said bluntly. Lyla felt like shivering when she felt his hard gaze settle on her back. "If she wasn't with us, I don't think any of us would be here."

Lyla blushed slightly, ducking her head at the compliment. Even if he was glaring at her back, it was still nice to be recognized.

"But you seem quite skilled as well..."

"I'm not my sister."

"O-KAY! Good talk" Lyla interrupted, "But look-it now, a large group of armed people over there causing a fuss with a guard. Bad, right? Right. Let's focus on that..." She set her face and wobbled over to there, acting the poor cripple.

"What do you want?" She head the deserter's leader's voice drift into her ear as they got closer. "Money? I can pay you. No? Let us through, you flaming blighter! We're not staying in this pit!"

"Then get back on your ship and leave!" Ewald growled, making a jabbing motion back towards the docks. "Kirkwall has no more room for refugees!"

"The ships already gone. We paid good coin to be here!" The leader snarled again, bringing himself up and height as much as possible and trying to intimidate the guard.

Maker's breath, but these people are stupid. Lyla thought as she came up to them.

"You and half of Ferelden. There's nothing I can do! The city is full!"

Lyla's face lit up when the guard glanced at her. "Ah, but surely there's a bit of extra room for the pretty people?" She said cheerfully, gesturing towards herself. The guard frowned at her disapprovingly, making her grin slip slightly.

"I find keeping my neck away from Knight-Commander Meredith's blade far more attractive than any of you," He told them sternly. "We've been letting you Ferelden in for months. You're too late. There's no more room!"

For a second Lyla swore he would stamp his foot childishly into the dirt, but the man didn't.

"But we've got family here!" Carver said from her left, almost making her jump. Instead she just smiled and nodded along.

"I've heard claims like that a thousand times already," the man said, shaking his head. "Trust me. Listen, we'll find some ships to take you back to Ferelden- eventually. Until then, you can stay."

Lyla's smile grew again. "If you find our uncle..."

Ewald looked surprised at her Uncles name, but snorted in amusement when Carver told him jut "who" Gamlen was. "A Nobleman? The only Gamlen I know in a weasel who couldn't rub two coppers together. If he comes back, I'll bring him to you. but I don't have time to-"

"What?!" The leader shrieked, pointing at Lyla in anger. "You're going to let the _cripple_ through?"

"I didn't say anything about-"

"We've been here four days, an's they just got here!" One of the lackeys said vehemently.

"The guardsman promised nothing." Lyla said, her voice cutting through the men like a whip.

"Oh, and now the crippled girly is tellin' us what to do? That's it, we're cutting our way out of here! Men, to arms!"

Lyla sighed as the idiot drew their weapons. Vaguely she remembered something like this happening before but nice to get a few reminders now and again showing how stupid people were. Did the men honestly think they could fight through all the city guards, like some sort of invading force? Either way, a good hit to the head might bring them back into reality.

Her staff made a sharp sound as it smacked the leader on the skull. Stunned, he went down, only to have the rest of the desperate deserters turn on her. Carver cursed, coming to stand in front of Lyla with his sword drawn.

Unable to do magic, Lyla didn't do much besides smack a few more people and spear them through the stomach. There was no way she would be casting a spell in front of the perfectly friendly, law-abiding, Chantry-following guard who as practically the only way to get Gamlen to let them into the city.

"Unbelievable." Eswald said in disgust once Lyla toed over one of the bodies to make sure it 'wasn't just pretending' and deemed the area clear of hostiles.

"Captain!" One of the grunt yelped, scrambling up to them. "Are you alright?

"I am, no thanks to you," Eswald growled, giving the grunt the evil eye. "Where is everyone, anyway? Go find them, I want this kept under control!" Sniffing slightly, he turned to look back at the still-smiling mage. "You... have my thanks. Look, I can't get you into the city, honestly. It's not my decision. But, I will find your uncle and bring him here for you."

"Thank you," Lyla said softly as the man turned away and started walking, presumably off to go big important things. She noticed the guard nod at her words, glancing back to show he heard her. Then, they started to play this fun little game, called "the waiting game," which involved sitting around on your butt in the Gallows, surrounded by the stench of despair.

"It's been three days!" Aveling cried in frustration after a long wait. Lyla sat up suddenly, giving her a sharp look. "This waiting has to end."

"I'm sure it won't be much longer!" Leanra insisted, wringing her hands out nervously. "Gamlen must still be looking for us!"

"And if he's not?" Aveline demanded, throwing up her hands. "What do we do?! Board the next boat, back to a blighted land?!"

Lyla's eyes slid to one side on cue, and she pulled herself to her feet. "Don't look now," she said coyly, "but I think that's our man."

Leandra let out a relieved gasp, and started towards Gamlen with purposeful strides. Uncle's eyes widened when he saw her. "Leandra!" He cried, spreading out his arms invitingly. He started towards them with an un-even gait. "Damn, girl! The years haven't been kind to you!"

"Gamlen!" Mother wailed, throwing her arms around his shoulders. Lyla sighed at her mother's dramatic antics.

"L-let me say up front, I wasn't expecting this. The blight, your husband-" He drew back, shaking his head, "-dead. I'd ah, figured you'd pretty much be a Ferelden for life!"

"Oh, Gamlen!" Mother sobbed, holding a hand over her mouth. "We've come too late! My darling Bethany didn't make it, Andraste guide her poor soul!" She looked back over to her other children, then looked at Gamlen again.

"Oh Maker save me," Gamlen mumbled, then continued in a louder voice; "Leandra, don't drop this on me here. I don't even know if I can help you get in!"

"Would it help if I said you were my favorite Uncle?" Lyla said cheekily, though her heart as racing. They would be able to get in this time, right...?

Gamlen chortled. "It'd make me feel better, but that's about it." The man said bitterly. "I was hoping to grease some palms... but the Knight-Commander has been cracking down. We're going to need more grease."

"But... what about the estate?" Mother said in horror, looking at her brother with wide eyes. "Surely Father must have left _something_ when he died?!"

"Right!" Gamlen immediately looked guilty. He glanced to one side nervously. "About the estate. It's, uh... gone. To settle a debt. I mean, I've been meaning to write you, but..."

"Then there's no hope," Mother bemoaned, hanging her head in her hands.

"Not quite!" The uncle said quickly, slinging an arm over her shoulder in what might have been a comforting motion.

And that was how Lyla found herself standing in front of Meeran a second time as the man sneered down at her. One dead Friedrick later, and she could happily report that they could _obviously_ kill the man, why do you ask?

"Good!" Meeran sneered "May the vultures feast on his corpse and shit him into the ocean!"

Carver joked about the colorful language their new employer was using, and Lyla gave her brother a fond look over one should while he wasn't paying attention. Everything was playing out just fine, just like what she could remember of last time.

All that was left to get into the city was to tell mother.

"Any luck?" Gamlen demanded as Lyla meandered towards them with her classic grin on her face.

"Was there ever really any doubt, Uncle?" She said cheekily.

Gamlen and Mother relaxed, looking relieved. "I'll speak with Meeran and ask when the bribes can be made. Wait here..." He started off eagerly, Lyla's amused gaze following him.

"Huh. I guess we did it." Carver said, squinting suspiciously at Gamlen as the weasel drew up to Meeran. "We're here to stay, at least for a while."

"No more running for our lives unless we really have to," Lyla agreed easily, leaning on her staff.

"If only Bethany was here with us," Mother said mournfully, making Lyla flinch slightly.

"And Wesley," Aveling added.

Lyla didn't answer in favor of watching Gamlen approach the guards. "Well, we're off to a fantastic start!" She declared, flashing everyone a reassuring grin. "Let's see what else this city has in store for us!"


	5. Load 4 II

"Hi-ho, hi-ho, up Sundermount we go!" Hawke sang, dancing from one rock to another. Carver grunted in disgust behind her, his heavy armour forcing him to slog through the mud. The mage just cackled gleefully at her brother's apparent distress. "WAIT!" She cried, freezing. "Do you hear that?!"

The warrior froze, holding his breath as he listened. They both waited with bated breaths. "I... don't hear anything," Carver hissed after minute, shifting uncomfortably and reaching up to grasp his sword.

"I know," Hawke sighed blissfully. "Isn't it wonderful? No shouting, no haggling, no one vomiting. Just..." She spread out her arms, "nature."

"That's constantly trying to kill us, yes." Carver said spitefully, causing his sister to scoff and stick her tongue at him. "Don't deny it, sister," he warned. "This may be a way to get out of town during the Templar search, but it's still dangerous." He scowled at her again, feeling a bit put-upon for her little 'joke.'

"You have no sense of humor," Lyla grumbled, scuffing her boot against the ground.

"And you have no survival instinct," Carver returned.

"It's true!" Lyla cried dramatically, laying a hand on over her heart. "If it wasn't for you, dear brother, I would be but a corpse floating in the water!" _Or sitting on a ship, returning to Kirkwall for the third time..._

"Never fear, big sister!" Carver suddenly said, equally dramatic, and startled Lyla. "For I will protect you from the big bad monster that tries to eat you!" He threw his arms out for effect, smirking.

Lyla laughed in delight at getting him to play along, clapping her hands childishly. But she saw Carver's mouth went lax, brows furrowing. His arms dripped slightly, making Lyla freeze, her smile disappearing. The sound of a sword being drawn echoed behind her as she met the fear-filled eyes of her brother.

She spun on her heels, bringing up her hand in preparation to cast a spell. Carver was behind her suddenly, his own sword out.

"Can we help you?" Lyla drawled, taking in the small group of men standing in front of her. _Bandits,_ she thought in disgust, eyeing the ragged armour they were wearing. They leered at her, one of them crossing his arms and looking at her in a way that made her skin crawl. Her good mood was gone.

"Why yes, sweetie," The Leader said in much the same way she had, jutting his chin out. "If you would be so kind to hand over all your coin and weapons..." He trailed off, sneering. It appeared that leering and sneering were the default expressions that they had...

Well. That and fear. Which was the expressions on their face when they suddenly blossomed into flames.

"That was fun!" Lyla said cheerfully as Carver finished cutting the last one in half from where the bandit had been writhing on the ground. Her brother stood still a minute as she brushed imaginary dust from her gloves, the tip of his sword resting on the ground. "Is something wrong?" she asked when she saw him staring at her.

"Ah-!" He shook himself slightly. "No, let's just... go." He shouldered past her, continuing up the path. She hesitated, looking back at the bandits they left on the ground. She bent down to yank a purse off one of them, before scrambling after him.

The rest of the walk up the mountain was silent save for their foot-falls.

* * *

><p>Lyla was a bit irritated. She still had no idea what Merrill was holding when they approached her(was it Merrill really?), but those whispers... it set her on edge. She had forgotten about those whispers, about the way Merrill acted when she first met her. Asking if it was polite to ask for a name? No. This wasn't the Merrill that stood with her against the Templars, just as the boy behind her wasn't the same man who followed her into battle against Meredith.<p>

It wasn't fair.

Turning her face away from them as they walked up the mountain, she tried to figure out what this could mean. It pressed on her mind as she struck down skeletons and spiders, throwing up a well-placed shield to stop her brother from being cut into pieces by an Arcane Horror.

The Not-Merrill called forth Flemeth from the amulet, and Lyla stepped forwards with many questions on the tip of her tongue. _After all, even in a Nightmare, the famed Witch of the Wilds would understand!_ She thought desperately, praying to the Maker, to the Creators, to anyone that could hear her that there was some reason in this madness. The words died on her lips as the witch took one look at her and held up a hand to stop her words.

"I can not help you with this, child," Flemeth said first thing, producing a dismayed sound from Lyla, "But I do know what it is that haunts you." She gave Hawke a pitying look, but offered no comfort. "This will continue on until your use is fulfilled. I can only say: try to enjoy your new chances."

Lyla closed her watery eyes and turned her face away as Flemeth turned into a dragon and left them there, at the top of the mountain with only the wind from her wings and a broken amulet left behind. She laughed, soft and bitter, as she heard her companions scramble back in surprise. "This is like a bad story that Varric likes to tell," she whispered as the gust died down around her, leaving nothing.

She took a deep breath, plastered on her most reassuring smile, and turned to face her not-brother. "Come on," she said, feigning relaxed ease, "lets get down off this mountain before a cloud comes and eats us, or something equally unpleasant happens."

She slung an arm over both of their shoulders, steering them back the way she came. She only spared a single glance back, before focusing on the path ahead of her.

There was nothing else to do, now.

* * *

><p>They returned to Kirkwall with Not-Merrill in tow, delivering her safely in to the clutches of the alienage. While not surprised, Lyla was a bit amused that the elvhen managed to get Lyla to agree to visit her. <em>I'm doing it to make sure that this Not-Merrill doesn't fall too far into blood magic,<em> Lyla told herself, _that she doesn't loose the way._ It was a good enough excuse in her head to let her go back home.

Well, not home. Not really. It was actually Not-Gamlen's home, with the fleas and the stains and the something -she didn't want to know what it was!- that was moving in the corner. It made her uncomfortable to be there, it made Not-Carver uncomfortable to be there, it even made **Chomp** uncomfortable to be there. It was probably due to the smell.

But _Mother_ was there, or the best representation of Mother, and she liked it when they were home. So Lyla just smiled and accepted it, like she was oft to do. She went home, listened to Not-Carver tell _Mother_ about their day, fed the dog, checked her staff. Just like the night before. Just like always.

_And always and always and always until the Maker gets tired of having m-_ Lyla turned off the little voice in the back of her head as she gingerly lied down on her bed and hoped the bed-bugs didn't bite too much that night.

"That was fun," She said once Not-Carver settled down next to her.

"Which part?" He grumbled, shifting around in a futile effort to get comfortable. "The part where we helped an apostate mage or the part where spiders tried to eat our face off?"

"The part where you played with me," Lyla said truthfully. "Back on the mountain, before the bandits."

Not-Carver stilled next to her, the only sounds in the room were the breathing of the Amell family.

"Good night," Lyla whispered, rolling onto her side and faced away from him. "Good dreams."

"Good dreams, sister," Carver echoed. "Watch out for demons in the Fade."

Lyla closed her eyes when she felt the tears building, and tried to focus on falling asleep.


	6. Load 4 III

**Nightraze** Thank's for the reviews!

* * *

><p>It had been a very beneficial year for Meeran, ever since he had agreed to take the Hawke siblings into the Red Iron. The younger brother was strong, if a bit rough and stubborn. He fit right in with the rest of the warriors, roaring and fighting and picking up curses left and right. Like a bull, that one, and when he was leashed then he was a fine asset.<p>

The older one- the mage, however... she was a prize. A leader, that one. She knew who-did-what and when-this-was and what-went-where. She held her brothers leash, as loose as she did, and while he appeared to fight her every step of the way it always went in the favor of the older sibling.

What with her throwing spells out like candy, and that quiet look in her eye, Meeran knew without a doubt that if she wanted to she could easily take over the Red Iron. He would be kicked out immediately, if not outright killed. With the amount of jobs and trust he shoved on the wayward siblings, she could just poison him and grab the leadership for herself. None of those thick-headed mercenaries he lorded over would be any wiser to it.

And such, Meeran was very very** very** grateful that she didn't usually appear at all interested in taking the job. Instead she merely followed orders and did the jobs and counted off the days she had left. It was a damn shame that they were only under his service for a year.

* * *

><p>Lyla seriously considered letting her purse get stolen a second time. Really, she did. For Varric- or Not-Varric. Because how else would the dwarf make a stunning rescueentrance? It was only befitting of the amazing story-telling rogue. But, somehow, she couldn't bring herself to let her money be stolen again.

She stood to the side of Not-Carver, and the fake purse she had was on the side next to him. The only real money she carried, however, was tucked underneath her robe yet still easily accessible. She side-stepped the little thief, briefly watching his eyes widened in surprise before he was past her. She swiveled her head to watch as the boy kept running, disappearing behind a corner.

"What was that about?" Not-Carver mumbled, shifting uneasily next to her.

"I don't know," Lyla lied. "Let's just go home. This is a bust. We're never getting on that expedition."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure of that!" A familiar voice purred next to her, making her freeze.

_Don't look smug,_ the little voice in the back of her head scolded her. _Don't look smug and don't look happy and don't hug him no matter what._

It was difficult to not do those things. It must have been the chest hair. Or maybe Bianca. Lyla smirked slightly, slowly pivoting on her heels to look at Not-Varric. Or no, Varric. Or was it _Varric? Was_ he Varric?

Just stop worrying about it now. Worry about it later, when there is not an impression to make.

"Now, why would you say something like that?" Lyla drawled, looking down at the dwarf. He smirked right back at her, rocking back on his heels.

* * *

><p><strong>Carver<strong>

"... Where am I?" Carver asked, looking blearily up at the ceiling of Gamlen's house.

"At Gamlen's hovel, in Lowtown, in Kirkwall, Free Marches, north of Ferelden, in Thedas. Would you like to know the time as well?" His sister said flatly, checking over his armour for wear and tear.

"... no..." Carver whispered weakly, throwing his arm over his eyes. "I would like to know how we got here, though. And please don't shout..."

Lyla sighed, gently setting down the knee-cover. "Okay," she told him in a whisper. "We met a dwarf named Varric Tethras, the brother of the other dwarf leading the Expedition we wanted to get onto because we needed money."

"I remember that part," Carver grunted, curling his other hand slightly and raising his arm to squint at her. "What happened then?"

"I was going to talk with him for a bit but you said you were going back to the Red Iron's place for a bit. After the talk I went to find you. You were drunk, so I took you home." Lyla explained in a very level voice, picking up the next piece of armour and looking at it suspiciously. "I'm also pretty sure you got into a bar fight, but do't hold me to that."

"Oh. Okay." Carver rolled over, hunching in on himself in an attempt to block out the light.

"The dwarf wants us to raise fifty sovereigns and find a map of the deep roads, and then he'll let us on the expedition," Lyla added nonchalantly, moving to the next piece. "And we also need to get you better armour. **And** you were babbling something about mum's old estate."

Carver grunted again, not really listening. With a small sigh, Lyla set the piece of metal in her lap and stared at him silently for a long time. The emptiness wrapped around her completely when the candle started to gutter.

"I'm going to be taking extra side jobs for a bit. After we get over our debt to Meeran we can go off and work together. It's going to be hard work, raising that kind of money," Lyla told the curled form of her not-brother. In actuality she was just talking to herself, trying to chase away the silence and the lonliness. "I'm glad you're here to help. I'm sorry you have to go through this. I'm... I'm sorry I'm a mage."

Carver grit his teeth and glared off into the strengthening dark, silent and pretending to sleep. After a while, he felt his sister settle into the bed.

He told himself it was better this way.

* * *

><p>"Wait!" Carver said, reaching out to stop Lyla before she opened the door. "Wait. We shouldn't. Not now..."<p>

His sister gave him the oddest look, hand still ready to push open the door. "Come again?" She asked, confused. "I thought this was your idea."

"Yes, well-" Carver groaned slightly. "I'm sober now. Last night I had to much to drink. And didn't you say yourself I needed new armour? We have no idea who is in there, and since I have a hang over now isn't the best time for this." Maker, but he hated his sister some times. He loved her, but he hated her, and she was just... her. Yes, she had changed since the flight from Lothering, but she was still her, with her brash trusting nature and her spontanious, crazy plans that some how worked out. "Please?"

"Carver-" She whined, giving him a wide-eyes, innocent look. "It'll be fine. I promise I'll protect you from all of the big-badies."

"Maker, last time one of us said that we go jumped by bandits!" Carver said, giving a sharp bitter laugh. "It was just the other day!" He sobered up when he saw her earnest look. "Sister, please, can we just come back in a week? When I haven't been drinking recently?"

"You're always drinking, ever since we joined up with the Red Iron." Lyla pointed out not-so-helpfully, though she locked the door to the cellar again. "Maker's Breath, but did we come all the way down to Darktown for nothing? Let's go talk to Varric about a job, then. We'll go into the estate later."

Carver let out a relieved sigh, following after his sister. Mostly he hated her, other times he loved her. Sometimes, though, just sometimes, he tried his damndest to do the best for her. And walking through an estate filled with slavers was definitely not the best option right then. But then again, neither was walking back through Darktown.

Lyla didn't hestitate in her step during the entire trek through the underground slums, walking forwards with power and purpose, looking like she just **itching** to start trouble. Carver didn't think she was, not really, but it did send everyone scuttling out of their way and some of the more dangerous-looking ones slinking back into the shadows. If the way they moved didn't send people running, then Lyla's mage-staff and his sword surely did. They emerged out of the darkness unscathed and unchallenged.

His sister was a genius. Times like this he felt like an-

* * *

><p>"-impossible, crazy idiot!" She was sobbing, her blurry face hovering over him. Something wet that wasn't rain fell onto his cheek- she was crying. "Please, <strong>please<strong>, get up. Carver! I can't- I can't, please Maker no I don't know any healing spells! Carver! Don't do this to me!"

His tongue was thick and dry, his lips refused to part. His eyes slid closed just after a figure loomed above her, weilding a bare blade. Darkness embraced him, and he floated in it, feeling light and a great power washed over him as if the Mak-

He looked up in surprise when his sister woke up with a small cry, sitting straight up and startling Mother. He scowled, seeing the tears in her eyes.

"Sweetheart," Mother begged, "please, the darkspawn are coming!"

His sister looked around at each of them with wide eyes. Even Bethany stopped to give her an odd look. "Right," Lyla said, sounding hollow. She stared at Carver especially long, before shaking herself and standing up. "Darkspawn..." She echoed.

She gripped the staff that Mother offered to her, smiling uneasily. No one asked any questions as she led them out of Lothering, away from the approaching horde.


End file.
